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Description
Mission Prompt: 70. Playing the Melody.

Pencil shading is my new luff. Okay, so I've been doing pencil forever. Never mind that. Right now it is the current mode of arting, because as much work as it is it's oddly more fun to do than coloring.

I did a bunch of random texture on Tristan, and I don't know why. The shirt was a pain but looks good finished.

I'm trying to get all of my Mission sketches finished by the end of summer.

Text blurbith:

~*~*~

Taken from Chapter Seventeen: "Break Free"

“Yeah! That’s the way to roast ‘em!” Fizdis’s dinosaurs were enjoying this bout, a rare chance where the enemy was as rough-and-tough as they were. Watching their tails and heads and claws slam into the enemy was like watching bulldozers made of leather plow back and forth. Such attacks were destructive enough; but the Imperial monsters, hardened physically, had little resistance to attacks of flame or energy, and took great damage from Two-Headed King Rex and Machine King. For all their boasting, the Imperials were weak, scoring only a few minor hits in non-critical areas. Tristan was too concentrated on the battle to notice how terribly one-sided it was.

That’s when the whole world became off.

He didn’t notice it immediately. Then the feeling slowly came over him that things were not right. There was something… wrong with his senses. Something had gotten into his nerves and was crawling along at a speed almost too slight to be noticed. He didn’t know how to describe it. It was like a noise that he could hear, but not listen to; like a thing he could feel but not touch.

He was lost in trying to identify the sensation. He didn’t notice one of the enemy monsters try to take a swing at him until he was inches away. “Whoa!” He ducked instinctively, and a good thing he had, for an instant later came a wave of fire from his Blackland Fire Dragon. The enemy monster went up in smoke and was gone. Tristan turned to see his dragon, to thank him – but there was something wrong with him, too.

Blackland Fire Dragon had frozen, its jaw open and steaming, a giant frozen mass of muscle and scales. Tristan looked into its eyes and saw something there move. He must have been imagining things. It looked like his dragon’s eyes had melted, pooling yellow, swirling into a strange emerald green. He gaped up at his monster, clueless as to what could be happening. Then his dragon looked at him, prostrate on the ground, and snarled.

Description
Mission Prompt: 70. Playing the Melody.

Pencil shading is my new luff. Okay, so I've been doing pencil forever. Never mind that. Right now it is the current mode of arting, because as much work as it is it's oddly more fun to do than coloring.

I did a bunch of random texture on Tristan, and I don't know why. The shirt was a pain but looks good finished.

I'm trying to get all of my Mission sketches finished by the end of summer.

Text blurbith:

~*~*~

Taken from Chapter Seventeen: "Break Free"

“Yeah! That’s the way to roast ‘em!” Fizdis’s dinosaurs were enjoying this bout, a rare chance where the enemy was as rough-and-tough as they were. Watching their tails and heads and claws slam into the enemy was like watching bulldozers made of leather plow back and forth. Such attacks were destructive enough; but the Imperial monsters, hardened physically, had little resistance to attacks of flame or energy, and took great damage from Two-Headed King Rex and Machine King. For all their boasting, the Imperials were weak, scoring only a few minor hits in non-critical areas. Tristan was too concentrated on the battle to notice how terribly one-sided it was.

That’s when the whole world became off.

He didn’t notice it immediately. Then the feeling slowly came over him that things were not right. There was something… wrong with his senses. Something had gotten into his nerves and was crawling along at a speed almost too slight to be noticed. He didn’t know how to describe it. It was like a noise that he could hear, but not listen to; like a thing he could feel but not touch.

He was lost in trying to identify the sensation. He didn’t notice one of the enemy monsters try to take a swing at him until he was inches away. “Whoa!” He ducked instinctively, and a good thing he had, for an instant later came a wave of fire from his Blackland Fire Dragon. The enemy monster went up in smoke and was gone. Tristan turned to see his dragon, to thank him – but there was something wrong with him, too.

Blackland Fire Dragon had frozen, its jaw open and steaming, a giant frozen mass of muscle and scales. Tristan looked into its eyes and saw something there move. He must have been imagining things. It looked like his dragon’s eyes had melted, pooling yellow, swirling into a strange emerald green. He gaped up at his monster, clueless as to what could be happening. Then his dragon looked at him, prostrate on the ground, and snarled.